Expiration date
by HappyValentina
Summary: Little one shot about what you learn about a family by going through their medicine cabinet. Kurt/Blaine. Light and fluffy. i had no idea what genres to put this in.


Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. It belongs to Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, the writers, and FOX.

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><p>Expiration date<p>

by HappyValentina

"It would be much easier to just go to the drugstore."

Blaine watched calmly as Kurt ignored him and kept up his search. They were sitting on the floor of the guest bathroom in the Hummel-Hudson residence, and Kurt was rummaging through a large plastic container full of medical supplies and medicines, looking for something for seasonal allergies.

Normally they kept medication in the upstairs bathrooms; the usual stuff like aspirin and cough medicines, remedies for stomach problems, Band-Aids and gauze, rubbing alcohol and the sort. But after Burt Hummel's stroke, the bottles of pills multiplied in his and Carole's medicine cabinet, and they did a half-assed cleanup of what was essential, and dumped a lot of stuff into a plastic container and put it under the sink in the guest bathroom, where it would bother no one.

Kurt just knew there was a pill in there somewhere that would stop his nose from itching so much; he had used a certain super-effective anti-allergy medication before, and he knew there was plenty leftover from the last time he had used it, but now he had no idea where it could be. A search through the upstairs cabinets had turned up nothing. The only place left to look were the forgotten containers under the sink.

"You could stay here, and I would go get you something. I'm sure the pharmacist can tell me which allergy med is the best," Blaine said again.

"It's fine. I'm pretty sure I'll find it in here somewhere. I know it," Kurt said, pulling bottles and packets and all kind of things from the container and reading label after label. Finally he slumped his shoulders in defeat and sighed.

"Okay, it's not here," he mumbled.

"Told you," Blaine said with a shrug. "Now can we go to the doctor before you start looking like Rudoph the red-nosed reindeer?"

Kurt nodded and started putting all the stuff back in the container. He motioned to put it back under the sink, but he noticed something.

"Hey look, there's another one! Maybe it's in here," he said.

"Oh, boy," Blaine said with a roll of his eyes.

"Hush, you, I'm trying to do some good here. Use stuff that's already available instead of letting it go to waste," Kurt said, and popped the top of the container. The top was kind of dusty and humid, and Kurt sneezed.

"Your allergy is just going to get worse," Blaine said, a little exasperated at Kurt's stubbornness.

"What the- this stuff is all ruined!" Kurt exclaimed, staring horrified at the contents. Blaine peered into the container and lifter his eyebrows in surprise. Everything inside was messed up and in complete disarray.

"Oh wow, that looks potentially dangerous."

"This is all stuff from my old house. I bet my dad just chucked it in here after we moved in, and completely forgot about it," Kurt said, shaking his head in disgust. "Look; this gauze is now the home of a lot of fungus."

Kurt held up a stack of gauze packets by the corners; they were covered in spots that were clearly humidity. Blaine scrunched up his nose and reached for the waste basket, and Kurt dumped them in it, wiping his fingers on the floor rug.

"There's a bunch of stuff here that should be immediately thrown away. I can't believe Carole didn't already, she's usually so much more careful about this," Kurt added, pulling several expired boxes of medication and dropping them in the waste basket too.

Blaine scooted closer to Kurt, and together they started pulling stuff out, checking the labels for the expiration dates, and tossing out stuff that looked damaged, and stuff that was covered in other stuff.

"Look at this: this is all goopy," Kurt held up a dark little jar that had something gooey coming out by the edges. "It doesn't even have a name or an expiration date, but if you open it, your hand might just melt away."

Thunk! Into the wastebasket.

"Hah, this one expired in 1993," Blaine said, showing him a box of anti-inflammatory capsules that was yellowish and worn. Thunk!

"Great, I wasn't even born yet. That might come alive if it comes in contact with water or something."

"Expired, expired..." Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

"Superextradouble expired." Thunk!

"These bandages are covered in something gooey."

"And why would we need a pair of melted rubber gloves?"

"Oh well, at least this pile of antibiotics is still good for another year."

They continued to rummage for a few minutes, the amount of stuff in the container growing smaller, while the wastebasket filled up. Kurt seemed to thrive with the cleanup, even forgetting momentarily that he was afflicted by an itchy nose. He just loved to throw stuff away, Blaine knew that much; usually he fulfilled that urge by going through Finn's closet, much to Finn's chagrin.

"Look at this; this medication belonged to my mom," Kurt said, holding up several orange plastic jars with the prescription labels. "Which means it's from eight years ago. This is likely a biohazard by now."

Blaine watched silently as Kurt pulled not one, but seven of those identical jars and stared at them.

"This is the stuff she had to take when she got sick. Why would we still keep this in the house?"

With almost imperceptible hesitance, he tossed them, the jars falling into the wastebasket with a small clatter.

Blaine still had one in his hand too. He looked down at it and discreetly read the label. The name of the medication was unpronounceable. They mistyped both 'Hummel' and 'Elizabeth'.

"More melted gloves. My dad was apparently hoarding gloves," Kurt suddenly said, pulling out a handful of rubber mess.

"Do you think about her?"

Kurt stopped what he was doing, and Blaine bit his lip. He hadn't really meant to ask.

"Of course," Kurt answered, barely glancing at Blaine. He tossed a couple more boxes, then stopped again. "All the time."

Blaine carefully put the prescription medication he had in the wastebasket, almost placing it too gently on top of all the other stuff. With a loud clatter, Kurt tossed some more stuff out on top of it.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up," Blaine said sheepishly.

"No, it's fine."

Kurt sniffled, but it might have been the allergy.

He kept pulling little boxes out. "Look, 'Hummel, Elizabeth'; 'Hummel, Elizabeth'. Expired five years ago. There's so much of it." He tossed ten more boxes and a bottle of something, and sighed deeply.

"I often really wish she were alive right now," he said softly, "just so she could meet you."

There was a sorrow in Kurt's eyes, a deeply buried sorrow that rarely surfaced above everything else, but Blaine finally knew for sure what it was.

Blaine smiled sadly at his boyfriend, and instinctively pulled him into a half hug, one hand draped across Kurt's back, rubbing slowly and comfortingly, and Kurt's temple grazing his cheek. He wished there was some way to solve that; he wished there was a way to fill that void in this boy's heart, to unearth that sorrow, a way to undo everything wrong in his life. But all he could do was kiss him and hold him, and tell him everything would be okay, even when he didn't know if that was true.

"I really wish I could've met her too."

Kurt sighed again, and resumed work. It wasn't long before they were done, and the wastebasket was full. Kurt silently pulled out the bag and tied it shut, to take outside to the bin. They put the tiny pile of rescued stuff back in the plastic container, and replaced it underneath the sink.

"Come on, I'll take you to the drugstore," Blaine said, getting up. "And if you behave, I'll buy you a lollipop." He winked at Kurt, who managed a smile, and held out his hand to help him up, like so many times before. Like he always would.

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><p><em>I started writing this a while ago, and originally intended it to have much more going on, but recently I picked it up again and decided to simplify it. Inspired by true events, in which I was at a friend's house and we went through a whole bunch of medication piles looking for something that would stop my nose from running. Her dad is a doctor; ergo, they have a lot of medication. <em>

_Anyway, hope you enjoyed this bit of slightly angsty fluff. I really wish the writers of Glee would finally address Kurt's mom with some depth. This is me fulfilling some of that yearning for now._

_Bye,_

_Valentina_


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